


Other You

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, Parallel Universes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 21:50:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4365455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for a prompt on tumblr. In a parallel universe Aomine Daiki turned out differently than in Tatsuya's universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Other You

**Author's Note:**

> for tumblr user peoplepickler! hope you like~

Tatsuya meets one Aomine Daiki for the first time in a club. He’s heard the name (and quite a bit more) but he hasn’t actually seen or met the guy before. Tatsuya’s at the bar taking a break when he hears the name again, on the lips of a half-drunk woman next to him shouting to her friend and pointing obviously. Aomine’s very attractive, wolfish grin and muscles and height he wields like a weapon when he dances. He’s getting a little too handsy with everyone, but he’s getting away with it because he’s big and he’s hot and he moves onto the next person quickly enough. And Tatsuya is certainly not predisposed to like him (after all, he seems to be living up to his reputation quite well) but still—it’s always nice to flirt with someone who knows how hot he is; they probably won’t be friends or even fool around after this but still.

He makes his way over to Aomine quickly enough, and Aomine raises an eyebrow.

“You’re a pretty one,” he says, cupping Tatsuya’s hip in his hand.

Tatsuya leans in. “You’re not so ugly yourself.”

Aomine laughs, and then kisses him all rough and sour and Tatsuya breaks it off as quickly as he can. Aomine’s hand is tugging at the waistband of his pants and yeah this is definitely pushing at his boundaries a little bit too soon.

“Are you a betweener?” Aomine says.

“No,” says Tatsuya.

Aomine’s mouth twists into a sneer. “Oh, well. Figures.”

And then in a blink he’s gone, twisting his way across the room to dance with a woman in pink. The sounds of the shitty generic techno and the roar of voices is swelling into screaming white noise around Tatsuya and his fists are clenched so hard his nails are putting dents in his palms and tearing his skin. Because he can deal with the disappointment of not being able to travel between universes when it’s coming from himself; he can deal with maybe-projecting it on the people he loves. It’s when it comes from assholes like this that it hits him hard like a baseball bat to the head. Because even if he wouldn’t have taken that chance, it would have been nice to have it there for the taking.

* * *

 

Tatsuya’s day job is in accounting, and even though it pays well enough there’s nothing wrong with a little bit of extra cash, and since he’s been around betweeners all his life he’s easily qualified to host them (and this is, after all, the closest he’ll get to crossing universes himself). Even factoring in the cost of feeding the bigger, hungrier ones (Murasakibara Atsushi comes to mind) it’s a decent salary for very little work and it doesn’t even count as subletting his apartment even though, effectively, it is. He hasn’t run into another version of anyone he knows in this world so far, and considering how few betweeners there actually are it seems likely this won’t last forever. It’s odd, but he doesn’t dwell on it anymore; it’s been a long time since he’s allowed himself to think freely about the possibilities lying out there in parallel universes because he sure as hell won’t get to experience any of it.

It’s been about a month since he’s put someone up, and so Shuu’s call is not that surprising. It’s nice to speak with him in general (they haven’t talked in a couple of weeks; life always gets in the way) but Shuu’s on the clock so their conversation shifts toward the business end rather quickly.

“We’ve got a new guy coming over next week. Are you available?”

“What kind of guy?”

“Epsilon universe, from their Tokyo. He’s twenty-five; he’s a naturalist. Doing some kind of field work with insects, research and cross-comparisons with the ones over on his side. He’ll be staying a couple of weeks and he might come back after that.”

“All right. I’m available.”

“Great,” says Shuu. “Thanks so much. I’ll send the paperwork tomorrow.”

Tatsuya studies his fingernails. By now he should know asking for a name will just get him one he’s not familiar with, and he can wait until tomorrow for that—but still. He always does. Maybe this time it’ll be someone he’s come across before.

“What’s his name?” says Tatsuya.

“Aomine Daiki.”

* * *

 

Logically, Tatsuya knows this isn’t the same guy, but this Aomine looks the same and sounds the same and even walks the same, the lazy sort of cat-prowl that Tatsuya associates with things he’d rather not think about. And so he’s way more brusque with Aomine than he is with anyone else, but it’s just a few weeks and they aren’t usually home at the same time so it’s not even an issue (and even if it were, well—Aomine’s not particularly nice to him either, not that Tatsuya’s expecting very much since this Aomine knows he’s not a betweener already).

He wakes up at half past two in the morning to shouting that sounds like it’s coming from right outside his bedroom door—the immediate threat is dispelled when he realizes that one of the voices is Aomine’s and he and the other man are exchanging dirty talk. Tatsuya groans out loud; he doesn’t want to think about Aomine fucking anyone balls-deep right now—okay, so it might not be visually-displeasing on its own but it’s still Aomine. And he’s being more than rude; he’s not even trying to be considerate of his host’s work schedule and Tatsuya has half a mind to interrupt. But getting out of bed is going to seal the deal on his not getting back to sleep any time soon and, well.

His last thought as he drifts off to the soft banging from the other side of the wall (he can’t even have quiet sex) is that this Aomine is no different than the one who’s supposed to be in his universe.

* * *

 

It’s a few weeks after Aomine’s departure and Tatsuya’s still thinking about how awful it was, how awful he is. They’d barely spoken three words the rest of Aomine’s stay; the tension had not-quite-settled between them and it had constantly felt as if it was about to burst and it’s kind of a miracle that it hadn’t. And it’s better for both of them if Aomine isn’t with him the next time he’s in this universe. Aomine can stay with another betweener who he won’t be predisposed to dislike and look down on and treat rudely, and Tatsuya will never have to see him again. Of course, he can’t say quite as much to Shuu, but he can certainly call in a favor.

Shuu looks busy at his desk when Tatsuya arrives, but he beckons to Tatsuya to sit down anyway and wraps up his phone call quickly.

“You’re in the office, huh? Must be something important.”

Tatsuya shrugs. “I was around. Anyway, I do want to talk about my last job.”

Shuu frowns. “The naturalist? What about it? Did everything go okay?”

“Well,” Tatsuya says. “We just didn’t really…get along. So if he’s planning on coming back, I think it might be better if he went somewhere else.”

Shuu raises an eyebrow. “He couldn’t get along with you?”

“I mean,” says Tatsuya. “It just wasn’t…a good combination.”

Shuu doesn’t usually ask for this much detail, although this is technically a professional matter. Still, Tatsuya wouldn’t like his insecurities dragged to the surface right now when they’re still fresh in his mind.

“Please, Shuu?”

Shuu sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Okay. If you’re sure. I think he’s coming back soon, though, and I don’t know if there’s enough time to change all the records. So if you just get through this one—it’ll be shorter.”

Tatsuya bites his lip. “Okay.”

He supposes it’s the best he could ask for.

* * *

 

The next visit goes okay, or at least better than Tatsuya’s allowed himself to hope. He does his best to avoid Aomine, leaving for work early and getting back late at night; this time Aomine doesn’t bring anyone over (that Tatsuya knows about) and the obvious tension stays below the surface. That is, until Aomine’s last day, when it bursts like an overfilled glass of water spilling everywhere.

“So I heard you asked not to have me next time,” Aomine says.

Tatsuya shrugs. “We haven’t really gotten on that well, so it would be more comfortable for both of us if that didn’t happen.”

Aomine snorts. “More comfortable for both of us? Yeah, because you’ve been really fucking rude to me. I don’t know why; I didn’t do shit to deserve that. Fuck you and your passive-aggressive fake-diplomatic comments.”

“Well, fuck you too,” says Tatsuya. “I’m the one with the problem? I’m sure as hell not rude enough to bring home some random guy past midnight on a weekday and fuck him all night when the person who’s putting me up is trying to get some sleep.”

“What the fuck? If you had a problem with that, why didn’t you tell me sooner? Besides, that was a one-time thing, and even if that hadn’t happened you’d still have been rude and petty to me. You were from the get-go.”

Tatsuya feels like punching his smug little nose, but settles for pointing at the door. “Just get out.”   
Aomine doesn’t need to be told twice.

* * *

 

Tatsuya doesn’t think about Aomine much after that; it’s better to sweep all the bad memories under the table like crumbs from dinner when he was a kid, hoping the imaginary dog will take care of it. Of course, because there is no dog none of it really goes away if left alone; it just accumulates more dust and grime until it’s dredged up the next time he sees Aomine.

Tatsuya’s not expecting him to be at Taiga’s when he drops by unannounced, or anyone but Taiga—and he’s not really sure which Aomine it is when he answers the door.

“Hello,” Tatsuya says. “I’m here to see Taiga, if you don’t mind.”

Aomine shrugs. “Hey! Kagami!”

He hears Taiga’s footsteps before he sees him; he’s still wearing his apron and his sleeves are rolled up.

“Great; you’re here,” says Taiga. “The cake’s just in the oven.”

Tatsuya nods; Taiga looks from him to Aomine and back.

“Right. Tatsuya, this is Aomine Daiki; I’m hosting him from Epsilon. Aomine, this is my brother, Himuro Tatsuya.”

Tatsuya nods at Aomine, and Aomine nods back—their eyes meet. There’s absolutely no reason to talk about what’s transpired between them right now, not in front of Taiga.

And then Taiga’s leading them down the hall to the kitchen, chattering away already, and Aomine’s chattering back, engaging him in dumb arguments and silly conversations. They’re like two peas in a pod, slightly belligerent but they seem to get each other on some other level. Maybe it’s because they’re both betweeners; maybe there’s something that Tatsuya just can’t understand about their shared experiences that’s given them some unspoken bond. But Taiga keeps inviting Tatsuya into the conversation along with them, and Aomine doesn’t try to keep him excluded.

The subject of their conversation circles back around to universes and traversing them, and how Aomine knows Taiga in his universe but how different that one is from the one in the room.

“I don’t know you in this universe,” says Taiga. “Tatsuya, do you?”

Tatsuya shrugs. “We’ve met.”

“What’s he like?”

Tatsuya shrugs again. “I couldn’t really get enough of an impression. Do you know me in your universe, Aomine-kun?”

“Nah,” says Aomine. “Sorry.”

“It’s all good.”

And the conversation flows toward topics Tatsuya’s a little bit more comfortable with and he relaxes just a bit. All things considered, Aomine’s been pretty nice to him—granted, he’s being polite to Aomine for show (still a bit snappy, but nothing near as bad as he’d let himself get before) but it’s still only been an hour or so. And while his surrogate brother’s not the greatest judge of character (Tatsuya himself is probably exhibit A in that department), perhaps he’d been too harsh, too quick to judge and see what he’d wanted to see.

* * *

 

The next time he comes over Aomine’s there alone; he says Taiga’s at the store but he’ll be back soon and since there’s nowhere Tatsuya could go he stays. Sitting on Taiga’s couch with Aomine is every inch as awkward as he expects, but well. It’s only for a while (but the seconds are stretching like latex and the silence is becoming oppressively heavy).

“So, uh, Himuro,” says Aomine, scratching his head.

“So,” says Tatsuya.

“Did…the stuff you said before have anything to do with…the me in this universe?”

Tatsuya swallows. He hadn’t thought Aomine would want to think about it, but, well. Maybe that Aomine wouldn’t, but the one on the couch next to him would. “Yes.”

“From what I hear he’s…”

“An asshole?”

The words come out sharper than Tatsuya had consciously meant them to. Despite the current relative peace between them, this is still Aomine after all. But he nods at Tatsuya’s statement anyway.

“Yeah. I mean, uh.”

Silence falls again.

“I’m sorry about that night. With the loud sex and everything.”

Tatsuya sighs. “It doesn’t matter at this point.”

And it really doesn’t—it was inconsiderate and beyond rude, but it was the only time and it’s really the only time he’s been at all inconvenienced by this Aomine. And all things considered, Aomine’s right. He’s the one being rude without provocation; he’s the one holding prejudices (and maybe he isn’t right for this job; maybe only the people who have traveled between universes and seen enough entirely different doubles to erase those prejudices are). He’s the one who’s caused all the trouble between the two of them. Aomine’s still looking at him, almost critically, and Tatsuya bites his lip.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so rude; nothing you’ve done has warranted anything like that.”

Aomine shrugs. “I get it. You look at me; you see him.”

But that’s not quite true anymore.

* * *

 

Taiga’s off in another universe the next time Aomine hops over; someone other than Shuu must be handling his case because Tatsuya gets a call that he’ll be hosting Aomine again. Aomine apologizes (he’s been kind of blindsided with this, too) but Tatsuya shrugs and promises he’ll be civil this time.

Aomine’s out a lot, on missions and doing other things Tatsuya doesn’t know about, but when he’s home Tatsuya actually finds himself enjoying it. It’s nice to have someone to cook for and cook with, and now that Tatsuya’s giving him a chance he and Aomine are working well together. They like watching the same shitty dramas and sports programming on TV; they eat the same snacks; they’re on similar sleep schedules. Even just lazing around and talking with Aomine is kind of fun, and Tatsuya’s a little sad to see the job end.

* * *

 

Aomine stays at Tatsuya’s place next time; according to Shuu he’d actually requested it (Shuu had called to make sure it was all right with Tatsuya; Tatsuya had responded affirmatively and refused to say more about the situation). This time there’s little awkwardness; they settle almost immediately into the same routines and it’s comfortable, like worn-in shoes found at the back of the closet. Some days Tatsuya comes home to find the TV volume on low and Aomine dozing off on the couch, folder full of work clutched against his chest. By the third time he’s given up on his urge to smooth Aomine’s messy hair and touch his shoulder gently to wake him; by the sixth he realizes that Aomine is actually very, very cute.

In and of itself that’s not a problem; he’d always been physically attracted to Aomine despite his opinion on Aomine as a person. But a baseline level of that is nothing compared to how much he wants to touch Aomine all the time, how he’s drawn to looking at him across the room, how he tries to recall a few specific moments of that horrible night when the other Aomine’s hand had been on his hip. It’s sick; it’s awful; there’s no reason this should happen. He’s finally over this irrational hatred and he’s plunging straight into a gross puppy crush that has him feeling like an adolescent all over again. Goddamn it.

And unlike his loathing he can’t passive-aggressively communicate this; he’s got to keep it to himself. Their relationship is fragile enough as it is, and hopefully these feelings will go away soon; hopefully they’re just residue left over from his first encounter with the other Aomine.

* * *

 

They’re watching tennis on TV when it happens; Aomine leans just close enough for his head to fall onto Tatsuya’s shoulder and Tatsuya almost jumps into the air. He tries to calm his elevated heart rate; Aomine’s eyes are still open and he knows exactly what he’s doing. So Tatsuya leaves him be, tries not to shake him off. And then, when Aomine’s clearly not going to move, Tatsuya scoots closer. He’s not really paying attention to the game; it could be match point for all he knows because Aomine’s reaching for his hand. His skin is calloused and rough and pleasing to the touch, and Tatsuya can’t be bothered with self-restraint anymore.

Aomine’s lips are warm and wet and sweet like maple syrup, and he’s already pulling Tatsuya into his arms, against his chest; what’s on TV might as well be static at this point for all the difference it makes. When they break for air, Aomine’s grinning wildly and he looks so incredibly happy that Tatsuya smiles, too. It’s hard to reconcile this person with the man Tatsuya met in the club, the one with the bad reputation and rough mouth, but at this point Tatsuya’s stopped trying because how can he compare this captivating person in front of him to anyone? How can he waste their time together thinking about someone who isn’t worth a second?

* * *

 

This status fits them well—absent the unbearable tension of loathing or resentment or trepidation things are easy; spending time together feels more natural when they’re touching each other. Tatsuya craves contact but never has to want for it; when he’s too unsure to reach out Aomine’s always done it for him, leaning on his shoulders and whining about how hard his work is or holding him and nuzzling his neck and saying nothing but speaking volumes.

The second bedroom gathers dust in its unused state; Tatsuya’s bed is always warm and even when Aomine comes home late they always wake up together, limbs tangled among the blankets and each other like jewelry stuck in a box too long. And no matter how rough things had started, they’ve ended up here with the edges smoothed out and the different universes they come from almost irrelevant.


End file.
